Friday kicks off just as fabulously drastic as anybody could have guessed it would, after a spontaneous late night bottoms-up between a group of self-respecting adults. It's mid morning when Blaine finally stirs and wakes blearily, the weather outside of his bedroom window is bright and warm, he can feel it and see it even with still mostly closed eyes and the block of the drawn drapes. He knows that he's overslept for a week day morning and his bones and limb thrum and ache, internal body clock beating and pulsing at him to wake and rise, he's hot and sweaty and highly frustrated in many ways.

Memories from the night before jab into his brain in short intervals, the mostly polished off bottle of Rum, the collective laughing, the story telling, the singing, the smile on Kurt's face even though he still was somewhat reserved, the way Burt stumbled up to his room moaning about being too old and how the kids are bad influences. He can't help but smile a little into the quiet empty stillness of his bedroom, how fun and easy it had all turned out to be last night, how right it had all felt.

Blaine groans at the fluttering tell-tale feeling in his stomach and the pounding in his head as his eye lids crack open lazily, the mattress dips beside him, the covers scrunching and curling away and a warm heavy weight, twisting and leaning in towards him.

He freezes, skin tingling, body flooding with both warmth and ice, surely he and Kurt hadn't-they didn't, did they? He, they, weren't that drunk, there was an equal amount of food on their stomachs, plus mixers to dilute the rum, between four of them, they were just happy more than anything, pleasantly tipsy. He would know if Kurt had ended up back in his bed, he would remember, he'd cherish the moment, and wouldn't let it happen in such whimsical, rash circumstances.

“Coffee. Prince valiant, get me coffee now.” His stomach dips and he isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed. The familiar tone, rough and grumbled and politely impolite digging into the understanding part of his brain. Not the soft spoken yet deep voice, the teasing hush of warm breath and delicious lilting tones that he's used to, forever pining for.

He then realises that he's still fully clothed-as in still wearing the casual slacks and shirt he was wearing for dinner last night-clothed. Santana lightly kicks his shin under the covers, her leg dropping heavily on to his, he can feel the shiny smooth feel of her wet-look leggings under the hem of his trousers where they ride up his calf. He hisses and rolls away from her, curling in on himself protectively, eyes clenched shut.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“I don't know,” Santana mumbles, barely coherent, and sounding like she could hardly give a damn. “Followed you two up here, thinking I'd catch some action, very disappointed when his highness ran into his own bedroom after a shockingly awful adorable shoulder nudge, can't remember much else after that, only I needed a mattress and your bed was the closest-”

“Me and Kurt?”

She scoff, smacks her lips, she's clearly got a popular case of the morning after dry throat.

“Who else? I've got to hand it to you both, you're good, you get all the points, acting like nothings going on between you, when you clearly want to rip each others clothes off, you deserve a freaking medal.” 

Blaine grumbles, unable to contain a smile and huff of laughter despite himself, until dread suddenly dawns and floods through him, his muscles and limbs stiffening. He partially rolls on to his back, his shoulder knocking with Santana's who grumbles lightly.

“Oh god, we didn't um, we weren't uh inappropriate?” He hates to think that Kurt would be upset or uncomfortable today because of a silly unthought-of move on their part, not after he's making such good progress recently.

Blaine feels Santana shake her head against the pillow beside him, moaning, unimpressed. “No I just said, very disappointed, you're very well behaved, even when slightly inebriated.”

You see, even Blaine's less sober self knows all too well how to be and how to behave, he knows Kurt, knows him without even having to think consciously, he's just under his skin, in his thoughts, always. Something has to give soon, he can feel it.

Blaine laughs, a short burst of delighted laughter out of nowhere and Santana laughs with him, whether she's knows what's he's actually laughing at or not, it's more of a snicker, and then kicks him again lightly against the back of his knee.

“Coffee. Now, please.” 

*

It's safe to say that none of them are able to cook a breakfast or brunch which is deemed anything close to substantial. After everybody has rose from their slumbers, mumbling short greetings and fighting for priority at the coffee machine, they all make their way around the condo with matching head aches and dress for the day. Kurt pulls out a pair of slim cut jeans and a camisole for Santana which she had left in his closet a while back, for situations just like this.

Sam picks them up and joins them for breakfast at a small coffee house, tucked away just off a quiet block near Broadway, which bakes the best muffins of any flavour you could possibly ask for. Blaine had texted Sam last night to invite him round for their impromptu evening, but Sam had texted back saying he was on a date at a movie theater, and would catch up with them and Burt the next day.

Most of the conversation during bottomless refills of coffee and fruit juice, and plates piled high of the sweetest smelling freshly baked carbs, is based around Sam's surprise date. Who, where, what? That sort of typical interrogation and Blaine is actually kind of glad that he or Kurt are not center of attention or conversation. Just poor blushing Sam, forced into the spotlight, talking about the girl he innocently met at the gas station.

An hour or so later when everyone's feeling a little more human, and after his friendly grilling, Sam is told that he can have the day off to do with as he pleases, he stands, polishing off the remains of his strawberry and banana smoothie and offers to take Santana home. They leave with warm goodbyes and hugs passed around, Burt whispering things into their ears whilst Kurt eyes them wearily, and then Kurt, Blaine and Burt are left alone, leaving the café and walking along Broadway.

At first it's a little quiet and a little awkward, obviously a lack of alcohol also means a lack of courage, but thankfully Blaine takes charge, stepping forward and leading them towards the popular shopping and tourist areas. Blaine tells Burt about a well known sports outlet where they head to and Burt buys some fishing gear, wandering around the store, gazing at everything with a look no less than amazement and joy. Kurt disappears for a short while and when Burt takes his new waders and bait tacks to the cash register, he is merely told that his purchases have been taken care of and isn't given the chance to say otherwise, as Kurt and Blaine over in the corner bicker fondly over a hat Blaine that is interested in.

They visit Tiffany's where Burt buys Carole a lovely brooch, nothing too overstated and the same thing happens when he tries to hand his card over to the cashier. Blaine starts looking curiously at the new range of men's watches and Burt finds himself distractedly chuckling as Kurt tries to take over his browsing with his own opinions, and then suddenly, somehow they all have shiny new watches. Kurt just shrugs, waving a hand dismissively, looking almost bored and sauntering out of the shop before anything more can be said.   

Kurt rolls his eyes whilst Burt stops at a hotdog stand in between stores, he smirks at Blaine's puppy eyes and watering mouth tracking the over-sized dog with too much mustard and gherkins, and hands the vendor a fifty, telling them to get what they want and for the guy to keep the change.  

There isn't a great deal of conversation, unless Blaine initiates it and it's something generic and universal, obviously the pink elephant that has been following them around the whole day will stay ignored until they are back at the condo later, but still the day is nice, easy and simple, even if Kurt is using rather ‘flashy' ways of communicating and part-taking in any interaction.    

They choose to go and see a matinee, a show filled with beautiful compositions, light comedy and not a lot of dancing, a combination that Burt seems to enjoy thoroughly, if the short deep chuckles coming from the other side of Blaine are anything to go by. Kurt sits on Blaine's opposite side, he isn't quite sure how he ended up in the middle, but doesn't bother questioning it, he also doesn't miss the contented expression on Kurt's face, that slips through his stern mask now and then, when he's too busy enjoying himself to think about keeping it in place.

During the interval Burt visits the bathroom, following the crowds who are filtering out of the large grand room of the quaintly small old theater building, and Blaine volunteers to stand in line at the concessions stand to get some ice cream for Kurt and himself to share and some roasted nuts for Burt.

Whilst he's waiting to be served he reaches out and picks up a small bag of chocolate coated candy from one of the side stands, knowing that Kurt will regret asking for some sooner or later. Kurt's moods and habits, his cravings and wants, likes and dislikes are things that Blaine has become much too accustomed to, he's pretty sure that he could take a Kurt Hummel test and pass with flying colours, that's if none of the questions are about the old parts of Kurt's life which Blaine is still yet to get to grips with, and will hopefully soon learn more about.

His phone beeps in his pocket as he steps forward along with the shortening waiting line.

Carole H

15.21

I take it that because my husband hasn't been sent back to me yet in pieces, then everything is…ok, at least for now? Carole x

Blaine smirks, slightly surprised at the text, but happy all the same. He takes a step forward with the line, looks around before replying.

Blaine Work

15.21

You would be correct : ) they're not exactly talking easily with each other, it's better when there's a group of us. We're actually all hanging out today, slow but steady progress I think. Was it your idea for Burt to come? B

Carole

15.22

Good to hear, I'm glad. No, I wanted to come and supervise but he wouldn't let me! :o… I understand though, Burt needed to take ownership of the situation, and I think he felt better about knowing that you were there too. Enjoy your day sweetheart. You're a good man, I hope that they're not giving you too much of a head ache. Carole x

Blaine smiles and pockets his phone, he loves Carole. No, the whole thing hasn't been as quite the head fuck as Blaine had anticipated it to be, at least not yet. As always Kurt is still surprising him, heading straight instead of taking corners, some might even say zigging instead of zagging.  

He's finally called up to the counter to be served when Kurt suddenly appears out of nowhere and approaches him from behind, his mouth a little too close to Blaine's ear, with his chin ducking over Blaine's shoulder, not quite touching, it's all very intimate in a none-intimate way, if that makes any sense at all, but this is Kurt and Blaine after all.

“Oh it's like you can read my mind.” Kurt husks, obviously spying the candy already waiting to be purchased in Blaine's hand. Blaine smiles, tells the cashier what he would like and then turns his chin towards Kurt over his shoulder.

“I can't. I'm not magic. I just know you, I get you.” Their eyes catch, deep and bold and powerful, Blaine actually feels himself sway on his feet, too caught up in the intensity of the gaze.

“Yeah, yes you do…and I think that you're a little bit magic.” Kurt's eyes are too bright, too soft, his lips plump and lifting secretly at the corners, his words sending sparks flying with every whispered breath. Blaine's lips part slightly, eyes fluttering closed, momentarily, becoming lost in his head, his skin vibrating with need and want.  

The foyer is reasonably quiet now, most of the clientele are mostly old theater buffs or research students, nobody who would pay much mind to a designer and his father and personal assistant out on a random afternoon jaunt. The small group of people who actually had recognised and some of them Blaine too, had already cornered Kurt for photos and autographs when they'd first spotted him before curtain call, Blaine had decidedly stepped back, standing with Burt and pointing at the program he'd held in his hand.

Still it is not the time nor the place, Blaine can only secretly thrill in the feel of the undertones of Kurt's quiet flirting and savour it for later, though if Kurt wants to play a little, if he's brave enough, than Blaine can be too right? He should indulge. Blaine inches back, the hem of his pea coat brushing against Kurt's thigh.     

A heavy hand suddenly drops down on to Blaine's shoulder, the opposite of where Kurt's body is positioned, startling him out of wherever he was, whatever he was going to say or do.

“These for me?” Burt scoops the carton of nuts up off of the counter obliviously. “Thanks bud,” he says, his voice gruff yet light and somewhat happy.

Burt shuffles past the pair, shovelling handfuls into his mouth, and heads back to their section to retake their seats before the curtain goes up again. Kurt watches him go, rolling his eyes with a hint of a fond smirk and only briefly sending Blaine a shy knowing glance. They finish up paying and take their treats back into the auditorium, just before the house lights dim and the actors arrive back on stage.

If their fingers brush together and linger whilst both men reach into the little bag for a scoop of chocolate candy at the same time, well at least the room is dark and nobody can see the tell tale grin on Blaine's face.

All eyes are trained to the stage, not to the man sitting hopelessly, helplessly, undeniably in love.    

*

After the show, the tiredness from the activities the night before seem to collectively kick in and with heavy eyes and weary heads, though happy and relaxed with laughter and the buzz of a good live show, they head back, picking up Chinese take-out on the way for later.

Burt kicks off his boots and shrugs out of his coat, heading straight for the living room, picking up the TV remote on his way and switching the thing on. Blaine subtly kicks Burt's boots over to the matt next to the small neat wooden storage unit in the entrance hall, and takes Burt's coat from him and hangs it on a hook in the coat cupboard. Kurt doesn't need reason to become irate or flustered.

Blaine looses track of Kurt's whereabouts whilst he puts the take out cartons away in the fridge for later and makes Burt a cup of tea to warm him from the brief late afternoon chill of being out in the city. He figures that Kurt is probably just off, being Kurt somewhere, just figuring things out in his head, so Blaine sits with Burt for a little while, discussing their favourite parts and highlights of the show they'd just seen.

“Kurt has a beautiful voice.” Burt says, quiet and gentle, unexpectedly. “I miss hearing him sing. Have you heard him?” He turns to Blaine, his eyes searching, somehow far-off.

Blaine shakes his head, “No, no I haven't, but I could imagine what he sounds like. We talked about it and Santana told me he was good, that they were in glee club together, Sam too.” Burt nods, sips his tea quietly, pensively.

“You know, I always thought that he'd end up on a stage like that, big and fancy, all up in lights, I could see him doing something like that, like what we saw those actors were doing, I thought that that's what he wanted.” Burt gazes off, lost in thought until his eyes snap back to Blaine, and his fingers curl tighter around his tea cup. “He's better than those people we seen today, he could do that.” Blaine smiles and nods.

“I don't doubt that you're right Burt.”

“The thing is though, you just want your kids to be happy, that's what you're supposed to do isn't it, you tell them to go and make themselves happy and you support them through it, but as a parent you're not always prepared for what comes next, you sometimes make the mistake of assuming that you know, and you expect what you assume.”

Blaine suddenly feels like he's talking to Kurt, with his cryptic messages and misunderstood meanings, but he gets it anyway, he gets Burt, he can feel the raw truth pouring from him. Strangely, everything begins to fall in to place, pieces slotting together. Burt is just a man, just a father, who couldn't do right for doing wrong, and vice versa, but he tried all the same. 

“I knew that he always liked fashion and clothes and stuff, that's just a given, that kid always looked great, weird and nothing that I would wear, but always great, he was always talented at making his own stuff and piecing things together, but then-when, when he got recognized and-”    

They hear shuffling and distant foot steps out in the hallway, Burt stops speaking, head turned and eyes glued to the back doorway as Kurt comes slowly striding into the kitchen with his arms folded around himself, an obvious sign of un-surety and insecurity, his cheeks flushed and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. There's no doubt that he'd over-heard, even just a little.

Burt could stay another day, they could all act like everything is just fine and dandy, or he and Kurt can talk, and he can start doing what he came to do, instead of leaving it until the last minute, when it's too late and there's no time for explanations or heartfelt conversation.

Blaine, though his chest thumps to pull Kurt into his arms, to make those sad eyes sparkle like he knows how, stands regrettably, fidgeting and mutters some lame half hearted excuse of needing to go upstairs. He practically pulls himself up the staircase, his head and heart heavy.  

*

Blaine stays upstairs surprisingly for almost an hour.

Silently, distractedly he makes himself as useful up there as he can be whilst listening to nothing, struggling to just catch only very faint muffled voices filtering upwards from the floor just a few steps below.

First he uses the bathroom, washes up a little bit, swaps out Jes's litter tray and wonders for a minute where the little cat could be, before figuring out that he's probably camping out in Burt's guest room after taking an almost immediate liking to the man.

Blaine understands, Burt is deeply likeable even with the strains of the ‘old tough guy' look about him, there's nothing to him but a gentleman, devoted to his own background and likes and dislikes, opinionated and strong willed, but also devoted to his family.

He then potters around his room, tidies away some stray objects, squirts some aftershave and cracks open a window to try and dilute Santana's strong waft of perfume and hairspray from earlier.

At the almost half an hour mark he becomes restless, checks his phone, his ears literally straining for sounds of distress. He lies on his bed, folding his arms under his head and wills his eyes to close, hoping he can catch just a little bit of rest whilst he waits. Sleep doesn't come.

The small hand reaches the top, and the larger one ticks passed on the face of his wrist watch, making it just over an hour passed. Blaine cracks open his bedroom door, he sits on the first step out on the landing, his face in his hands and elbows on his knees, and when Jester curiously finds him after leaving the guest room, they sit together silently, looking helplessly down the steps and the hall, with still just very faint muffled sounds, barely audible and unintelligible.

Then he hears it, something, a voice slightly raised, a little loud and breathy, panic and distress etched into the tones, he knows that voice. Blaine gets to his feet and slowly starts to descend the steps, Jester pressing himself against his legs, ears pricked as they move together.

“This is what you wanted dad, this is who you told me to be.”

“You're very kind and generous Kurt, that sweet part of you has never changed. I didn't tell you to lose yourself, or to forget who you are and become a jerk who thinks he's better than everybody else.”

Blaine's skin prickles, he winces, though Burt's tone is not unkind no matter the implication, that's not Kurt, Kurt is not like that, not to him at least.

“All those jocks, all those kids who knocked me down, called me names, the ones who threatened me, they threatened me because they felt threatened, of who I was, how different I was. You know what I went through.”

There's a deep sigh. “Kurt, of course I know, come on kid, you know that-”

“Well you know what, now they're right to feel threatened because, look at me, look at who I am now-”

“Kurt-” Burt's tone is slightly warning.

Blaine reaches the bottom, quietly making his way over to the archway, and staying just beyond the side wall, still wanting to be unseen, for now.

“You know what, if I'm so unbearable now, too successful-”

“I never said that Kurt and you know it-”

“You're thinking it, you're implying it-”

There's a deep gruff noise. “Maybe this was a mistake-” Burt sounds tired, almost resigned.

“Yeah, you're right it was. And you know what else, telling your kid to go off and be who he wants to be, and then not be happy with the results, well that was a mistake too-”

“Kurt, cut it out, it's not like that-”  

Blaine pushes himself off the wall, hands braced at his sides. He takes a half step forward and rocks back on his heel, knee bent. He has never felt so torn, so in the middle, so unsure of what to do, how to react.

Kurt, businessman Kurt, powerful and successful is breaking out, breaking free with each passing second, and bitter word uttered. Though kind and caring as Blaine knows Kurt can be, is really, this is the side of Kurt who can turn his nose up, who can turn his cheek and not understand why he can't always have what he wants and how he wants it.

“You should be proud, you told me to chase my dreams, to be who I am, to go out and get what I want. Well guess what, I have-”

“This isn't what you want Kurt, it's not. You went too far.”

Blaine blows out a breath, steadies himself, he doesn't want to get involved, it's not his place to, but maybe he can help some how, maybe he can soothe and calm things before they get too out of hand, and something is said that cannot be taken back. He knows that Burt trusts him to do that, and maybe Kurt too, sort of.

“You could have what you want Kurt, you could have the happiness all you wanted, without all of this other false pretence. You could have your prince charming you always dreamed about it, hell you already have him-”

“Don't dad, just don't-” Kurt barely whimpers, he sounds broken, so weak, so lost. Blaine aches.

Jester chooses that moment to meow loudly and roll and stretch, his claws scratching against the hardwood floors by Blaine's feet. The conversation next door halts, leaving silence to fill the vast space.

Kurt thunders out of the room suddenly like a whirlwind, straight passed Blaine, almost stumbling over Jester who is sprawling along the floor who leaps up and out of the way. Kurt doesn't even stop to look back or anyway apart from where his feet is carrying him, he just heads straight for the study, strangely, goes inside and slams the door shut behind him, no invitation for anybody else.

Blaine waits a beat, his heart pounding in his chest, then Burt slowly comes out of the living area, a hand rubbing over his head.

“I'm uh-” He gestures upstairs, “I'm just gonna go-” He trails off, not finishing his sentence just heading straight for the steps and heaving himself up slowly, shaking his head from side to side and sighing deeply. Before he's completely out of sight, he looks back down at Blaine and his eyes tell Blaine everything he needs to know, it's like they're saying ‘it's your turn now.'

Blaine could wait, he could stay out of the way, and wait to see if this will all ride out, but he knows that it won't, this could all end up the way that it had, only this time there may not be another opportunity for reconciliation. This could be it. Burt could leave and that would be that. Blaine won't let that happen.

It's just words. Words are designed to create impact, they can be used as weapons, they can be defined and shielded and twisted and manipulated. They can also be corrected to a certain extent, they can be used to soften and edge a blow, they can be held dearly in head and in heart, if used in the right way, and at the right time.

Music, subtle and soft comes from behind the closed study door as Blaine turns towards it. Live music, piano music, Kurt must be playing Blaine's keyboard. It's not a full melody, but a tune nonetheless, played with some minor keys, sounding a little sad and a little sudden, like the keys are being pushed down firmly with a little too much force.

Blaine opens the study door, not even looking around for Kurt until he's inside and closing the door behind him and turning around. Kurt doesn't stop playing, doesn't look up from his fingers skimming the notes. Blaine comes closer, in small careful steps.

“I love listening to you play, when you don't know that I'm listening. It calms me. Your music, calms me.”

Blaine stops short, eyebrows raised, Kurt's voice is so quiet and surprisingly soft, covered by the harsh clash of the keys ringing out below him, basic recognition of the song starts to filter in through Blaine's mind, it's one of Blaine's own, something he'd made up years ago and recorded himself playing, he didn't even know that the video was still available to view online.

“I uh, that's, you're-”

“I never wanted you to give up on what you wanted Blaine, it's why I put these instruments in here for you. My dreams, my happiness never worked out the way I thought it would-”

“You're not happy?” Blaine tries to keep his voice even, tries to hide the slight tremble.

“I guess, I just took a different path,” Kurt says on a sigh, still playing soft notes. “But you still have everything ahead of you. Why are you wasting your time here with me, making yourself part of this travesty?”

“Kurt, what are you saying, don't be-”

“Do you hate me now?” The keys suddenly clatter to silence, Kurt looks up from his hands, eyes almost blown.

Blaine rubs a hand over his brow, perches against the edge of the small love seat, arms folded and shoulders hunched, but it's not a posture of defeat, he won't give up, not now. “I didn't-I wasn't, no, don't be stupid Kurt, you know that I don't, I never could, and I'm not wasting my time.”

Kurt sighs, words looking lost on him, fading from his tongue and hiding behind the depths of his heavy eyes.

“That was inevitable, what happened in there, with me and him, um my dad.” Kurt nods to the door, he looks so sad, it almost breaks Blaine's heart.

“You just need to hear each other out, that's all Kurt, you were talking for quite a while before it came to…that, whatever that was, something must have been working out, go back out there, go find him and deal with this all once and for all.”

“I'm just not who he wants me to be anymore, I can't be that person. If I can't live up to people's expectations then they should just leave me alone, let me be me.” Blaine stands, comes around to stand in front of Kurt at the keyboard stool and kneels down before him, demanding his full attention.

“You are wonderful as you are Kurt, nobody wants you to change or be any different or any less or more than who you are. Your father, your friends just want you to be happy, they want you to be content. Be honest with yourself Kurt, you may be rich and successful, have the world at your feet, it may feel good to talk to people the way you do, to look at them the way you do, the way you can. But it doesn't make you any happier, admit it, you've pretty much said it already.”

He stops and pulls back to look up, catching a good look at Kurt's face. “Most people hire a PA to boss them around and feel good about themselves, but that's just not the case with us, you and I both know it. You're a good man, you're good to me, you make me feel wanted and needed, you make me feel safe.” Kurt's eyes clear, bright and blue and bold, they brim with unshed tears, red at the rims.

Blaine takes a deep breath, he lifts one of Kurt's hands and pulls it down to entwine within his own. “You don't have to be that way any more, not now. You're not like that with me, so don't be that way with anyone else, ever.”

Another deep breath, steady and slow, Kurt mimics him. It's time now, it's time to get it all out. Blaine tugs gently on his hand.

“It's different now, you put yourself high on this pedestal so that nobody can touch you, so that nobody would want to, you let people think that it's because you're too good for everybody else,” Kurt's features harden, eyes never leaving Blaine's face. Blaine continues, words low and quiet and careful, but powerful all the same.

“But-but really you're just afraid that people will hate you-”

Kurt exhales a shuddering breath, eyes rolling away, harsh and fast and slick. “Well they usually do, you should-”

Blaine blanches a little but refuses to let Kurt deter him, it's just words. Blaine will never hate him, and Kurt knows it, Kurt knows how much he possibly cannot hate him. “But I think it's because you know, you know the truth, and you're afraid,”

Kurt stands breaking hold of their hands and causing Blaine to almost stumble backwards until he's rising to his feet, turning to Kurt, pinning him with a hard stare.

“Afraid of what exactly?”

“Afraid that people will love you, you've closed yourself off to it, forgot what it feels like, that's why you're so hard on your dad, so hard on yourself, your just projecting your own feelings off of him and back to yourself.” Blaine waits and watches. Kurt doesn't look like he's about to argue, not yet.

“You feel like you don't deserve it anymore, your dad's love and his patience. Or anyone's I suppose, for that matter. Well guess what, you don't get a choice, everybody makes mistakes and everybody deserves somebody to love them. Real love, not the bought shit, not the kind that comes with fame and fortune-”

“And who the hell would be stupid enough to offer me that aside from my father?” Kurt's looking at him, like he's willing him, daring him.

It's all or nothing. It's time.

“I would, I fucking do,” Blaine bites his lip, lets it go with a harsh breath, squints his eyes closed, wills himself to calm. “You know that I do, and it's not stupid.”

And there it is, all laid out. Everything seems to feel off balance, out of kilter, the temperature changes around the room, dropping quickly to suddenly rising and it's too warm, too close. The atmosphere is thick and heady, everything fading to an almost blurriness.   

Blaine steps forward towards Kurt, approaching him cautiously like you would a wild animal. His voice hoarse, so deep it sounds like it hurts to speak. His eyes are so very dark, burnt out smudges of toffee, still melting, still burning.  

“So let me Kurt, let me love you, because I-I know that you love me back, you do, I know you do, you just won't admit it. Let yourself, let us do this!”

Kurt stays quiet, his eyes shining and shoulders lifting and falling heavily. Blaine moves closer, his fingers flex, aching to reach out but he keeps them pinned to his side, not quite trusting himself.

“Don't keep running away from everything Kurt, don't let your past define you. Don't run, not anymore, from the assholes that made you feel like this, from your dad, or from me, especially me. Don't keep fighting alone.”

He won't beg, he can't, he still needs his pride. If he has nothing else left he needs to hold on to something, even if his pride is already battered and bruised, he still needs it.

Patiently and silently he waits, feeling the like room is spinning around him, though one pair of glassy grey-blue eyes never lose focus. His chest pounds double time, feeling like it's not just his own heart that is occupying the space, theoretically he supposes that it's not.

His heart will never beat the same way again, he will never feel or be the same again.